To Dwell In Dreams
by LeonaWriter
Summary: Six year old Luke takes a trip to somewhere that most certainly isn't a spice freighter during his sleep one day, and the resulting tumult resounds through not just his life and Vader's, but so many others as well. Kplus for Sith. AU.
1. Nor Iron Bars A Cage Makes

To Dwell In Dreams

Chapter one – Nor Iron Bars A Cage Makes

Disclaimer: I do not own George Lucas.

AN: This story was inspired by a few ideas and a couple of fics. It would not let me alone, and nor would I let it. I believe that I would not be wrong in calling this saccharine angst. This is set six years after RotS, and is an AU set against the OT. Of a sort. ^_^

---

The first time that it happened, he would think it almost a dream. Force-induced visions of a reality that could not, possibly, be real. His own long-lost conscience attempting to make him feel guilt once more by showing him what he could not have.

Years later, Darth Vader would not remember the particulars of that particular report that he had been working on. It was one of those things that one dealt with, the paperwork necessary in any situation, be it Jedi or Sith. His master had wanted a detailed account of his latest venture, and though he could tell by the chrono that it was not even late afternoon, he was already weary of the thing.

The first thing of consequence that he began to slowly become aware of was a gentle thud, thud, thud, similar in rhythm to the regular breathing of his mask, except that the thuds were staccato, untimed. Faint, almost as if they weren't there at all, and he was just hearing echoes. . . With a stab of surprise he realised where his thoughts had been taking him. _Echoes in the Force_.

He turned sharply, enough to face the direction from which the disturbance was coming from, and crossed his arms. It seemed as though he had not done a thorough job of purging the Jedi and Force-sensitives from the Galaxy as he had thought.

There, sitting right on the edge of his desk and to one side of him, was a slight figure, a child. Unable to say whether it were simply his own sensitivity to the Force that made him so aware of the child's emotions or whether it was the fact that the indistinct, light blue form was simply projecting his boredom and anxiety, he dismissed the thoughts as unnecessary.

He narrowed his eyes. What _was_ necessary to know was how, _exactly_, an untrained Force-sensitive child had been able to make it all the way to his, Vader's, private chambers. It did not matter – he would find out who they were, where their body was, and make sure that they would be unable to do it again. Feeling that the child must have had no idea where he had let his mind take him, he went back to his work, putting the datapad with the report on it aside in deference for a number of maps and condensed versions of old reports to tell him of all the places that he had yet to purge of the Jedi scum.

"Watcha doin'?"

The idle, easygoing, carefree and singsong tone of voice shocked him. Surely the boy knew where he was, who it was that he was talking to? _Everyone_ in the Empire knew the look of his mask and suit. Everyone feared him and respected him. Anyone who didn't was. . . _dealt_ with.

Yet apparently, this child must either have been oblivious to what all of his Force senses were shouting at him, or . . . Vader didn't know what else. The child repeated his earlier question with a little more intent, curious and needful of attention.

The Sith Lord's gaze finally settled on that shifting mass of pure emotion given form. _Perhaps_, he thought to himself, shielding so as not to leak his plans, _I can use this child's talkativeness to my advantage_.

"I am not doing anything that would interest you," he said, suppressing a wince at how the sounds came out. Already six years, and he still wasn't used to the mask and the effect it had on his voice. "What," he said, answering question for question, "do you think that you are doing on my ship?"

"Eh. . . . my uncle says not to talk to strangers, but we know each other, don't we? I'm here because my uncle got _really_ mad at me and I don't know why and _aunty_ just sent me to bed. I overheard something, and don't tell _them_ this, 'cause I didn't _mean_ to overhear or anything, but they said I was _so_ much like Father. _I_ don't see what's wrong with that. I _like_ my father. I bet he was some kind of hero!"

The last was said as though the boy completely idolised the apparently absent father. Vader snorted. He knew all too well that no one was worthy of being idolised or looked up to like that. No one was purely innocent, and little boys like the one who was talking would grow up to become ruthless. It was simply the way of the world in which he lived.

"So I went to my room and I got in my bed 'cause I didn't know how to feel. Then I thought really, _really_ hard about father, and here I am!"

Vader started. His breathing did not change in the slightest due to the respirator, his heart rate staying level due to his chest plate, but emotionally he was in turmoil. This child, this boy had said. . . _that_. _I have no children. I killed them, and Padm__é_.

"I'm really surprised, though," the boy was saying, not noticing the changes in mood that he was creating in Vader. "These rooms are really big. I never thought I'd see rooms this big on a spice freighter!"

_A. . . what?!_ This Force-sensitive boy had the audacity to first accuse him of something impossible, then this! What kind of imbecile taught their child that Darth Vader went around in _spice freighters?!_

The same thuds of Force against solid materials started up again, the boy radiating perfect contentment as though if he had a face, he would have been smiling. Deciding that he had had about enough of this idiocy, he at last asked the pertinent question so that he could get rid of the nuisance.

"You _will_ tell me your name."

. . . well, perhaps more demand than ask, then. Not that it mattered. The child certainly didn't seem to think so.

"You don't even _know_? I _suppose_ I can forgive you for that." He seemed distracted for a moment, thudding stopping and blue – _how do I even know this, with the mask?_ – aura dimming slightly before he continued. "Auntie's calling for me to wake up, so I gotta go now. But just so you know, my name is Luke. Don't you dare forget it!"

With that the haunting presence dimmed and vanished, leaving a chagrined Vader.

He hadn't been able to even get the boy's last name.

---

AN: Originally this was going to be a story where Luke's Force Ghost goes and says something-or-other to Vader while he's Vader, with Luke-ghost travelling back in time. That idea was too complicated, so I stuck with this one once the plunnie was born. I do have places I'm going to with it, and it won't just be Vader POV. Luke won't stay six.

Important thing being that since this is only six years after Vader was 'born', I see him as still kinda confused, in a way. Also very young. Vader in ANH is in his late thirties; Vader in this chapter is still in his mid-twenties.

This is my first Star Wars fic. I am used to writing in anime mostly, but I hope I've done it justice. If you have ideas for Vader torture (as in the Luke telling him he thinks his dad's a freighter), don't hesitate to tell. *snickers* The title comes from a line from Harry Potter one – "It does not do to dwell in dreams and forget to live." Make what you will of it; it seemed right.


	2. And Live In Nightmares

To Dwell In Dreams

Chapter two – . . . And Live In Nightmares

Disclaimer: I wouldn't have made Ben die. *Makes face at George Lucas*

AN: Just for reference, like I said last chapter – Vader's still slightly confused. This is NOT helping matters. There is no dichotomy unless you count the kind you'd have if you changed _your_ name suddenly. Warning: Implied violence and nightmares.

---

Two weeks later, the strange child of Force and insanity returned. They didn't stay, though, excitedly shouting to all of one person who both could not bring himself to care and simply wanted the pest out of his quarters as soon as was possible.

"I did it! I did it! I'm back! I knew I could, I just knew it!"

Why in Sith hell would anyone, especially a child, wish to go back to where he was?

"I really wanted to get back, but we had stuff to do on the farm, and then I got really tired from that, and sometimes I'd try to find you but it felt like it was too far away for me to find you and I wanted to see you. I never told no one about seeing you, though – m'uncle doesn't like it when I talk about you. _I_ don't see why. Biggs talks about _his_ dad like he's the best pilot in the whole galaxy. I like Biggs, but I _always_ get into fights about that."

The last was said in a serious, conspiratorial way that had the man behind the mask wishing that the Force-choke worked on Force ghosts and non-physical beings. As if I don't have enough on my mind at the moment. He had tried to shield his quarters better, and had thought that it had worked, but now that the menace was back he rechecked the shields only to find out that they were still functioning normally.

"Boy," he began, dislike for the being radiating off of his person.

"_Told_ you, not just _boy_. I have a _name_ and you're gonna _use_ it. You said you would! Why ask if you don't wanna use it?!"

Vader glared at the child through his mask, but apparently young Force-sensitive little boys had no sense of self-preservation, because all he got in return was a glare that, if put on a more intimidating form, would have perhaps been just as forceful and intense.

If he had seen fit to claim Anakin Skywalker's memories as his own, he would have been painfully reminded of another little boy not too much older. _"I am not an it. I am a boy! And my name is Anakin."_

But he didn't and he wouldn't. Not if Darth Vader had anything to do with it. Which he did. A lot.

"Luke, then," he conceded. Anakin had never liked it when people had referred to him as a slave or as if he were not worthy of having a name. Darth Vader did not see the point in a little politeness, either.

The boy beamed, both figuratively and literally.

"So. Do you have a second name, Luke?"

The boy giggled.

"Yep."

"Well? What is it?"

"Yours, silly!"

For a number of minutes there was only the sound of the respirator, the wheezing filling the room.

"Humour me," he said in a dark tone that had left men more than twice his age cowering. Like most things that he tried, it failed to make the boy cower, but he did get an answer.

The bright patch of swirling Force crossed his arms.

"Your name is Skywalker, isn't it? I'm a one of them." When Vader didn't answer, he continued. "I hope you really are my father, because Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen _really_ don't like me talking to strangers, and you sure don't look an' feel like a stranger."

Anakin felt like he couldn't breathe. He _couldn't_ breathe. Owen and Beru. _Skywalker_.

It couldn't be true.

Vader narrowed his eyes. It wasn't true. The boy was lying to him. Sent by someone strong in the Force who had survived the Purges, who wanted him to do something, though what exactly was beyond Vader at that point in time. It would come, though. Nothing good that was given to him was ever kept, only taken away.

He would, however, look into the matter. Darth Vader was nothing if not thorough.

---

During the course of the next few weeks – en route from Coruscant to wherever it was that they were being sent that mission, nights shipboard while docked, other nameless places – he did his duties for the emperor.

He renewed his search for his family, knowing now that there might be survivors. Padmé was dead, nothing would or could change that. But now. . . he had a son. If he could allow himself to hope.

_Hope is an emotion of the Jedi. It is not worthy of a Sith_.

Yet he remembered (or was it Anakin who was remembering?) Owen, his stepbrother (Anakin's stepbrother) and a girl who had seemed to be smitten with the man, not that he had had any cause to see it. He had checked the Imperial records themselves and found himself to be right. Owen and Beru Lars, registered to the Lars moisture farm. Probably the same one that he (Anakin) had visited with Padmé.

There had been a boy of the right name and age living with them when last they had been called to register, but so far as Vader knew, that could have been long enough. He didn't know how the boy had been able to do what he did, if what he was doing was in spite of death or not, but he was sure of one thing. The boy had _power_; Skywalkers were born with it.

The visits continued, more frequently than before, and now also more informative. In a short amount of time, Vader knew all he needed to know about the Force-sensitive boy who had turned out to be his son. He could go after him, find him, turn him, kill the rest, but he did not.

Anakin Skywalker had a son.

A son who did not see him as a Sith lord, the feared Darth Vader. Who saw him as a lowly spice freighter, one with no real rank. No power – his aunt and uncle had never told him that his father might have even possibly been a Jedi. For which he was grateful to them; if Anakin Skywalker was known to his son as a Jedi, then he would be asked questions that he did not wish to answer. Better that he stay an unknown spice freighter.

He could not claim him, not yet. Palpatine. . . if the knowledge that Darth Vader had a son became common imperial banter, then his Master would know of it. His Master, who had told him that both Padmé and the child were dead.

He was a Sith lord still. He doubted that he could ever be anything else. His anger to raw, hate too powerful for the weak Jedi that he had been. Fear for his son, Anger at Palpatine, for hiding the fact that he even had a son, anger at Kenobi, for having betrayed him, for leaving him, for letting him believe Palpatine, for not being what he had wanted him to be. Hatred was there also; hatred against his new Master and his old homeworld. Luke had told him enough stories that, without even realising it, he had given away his location to Darth Vader.

No, he truly was a Sith.

Maybe this would not have happened if he had never believed Palpatine in the first place, but as powerful as he was, he could not change the past. He could only change the future.

He would have his revenge.

He would wait. Wait until the opportune moment, a time when it was right to strike, and his new Master would fall at his feet. Then, and only then, would he even think of bringing Luke to be by his side. The boy was too young, too weak yet. Patience would have to do. Some said that patience was one of the ways of the Jedi, a part of their peace and serenity, but it wasn't only of light, but of darkness, too. Palpatine had shown that.

So he would be patient. He would learn from his new master all that he could learn, all that was possible to learn. He would know his habits and know his mind. Then he would strike.

Until then, he would play his parts. Both as loyal servant, and as. . . father.

_Father_.

---

Luke Skywalker was a simple child, with simple wants and needs, the same as any other six year old.

He had an Uncle, and an Aunt, and there was a weird old man called Ben Kenobi, but he hadn't seen him very much. Uncle Owen didn't like him very much – he got that same look on his face when Luke brought up Ben Kenobi as he did when Luke did something he couldn't explain.

He had his friends at school – Biggs and the others. Some of them even had his like of driving and flying anything that moved, but not all of them. He didn't really understand yet why adults and other children alike would shy away when he said that he wanted to play in the kiddie cars that day. It wasn't like he _knew_ how to make them go faster; they just did, that was all, not that _he_ minded.

He had his home, never mind that it wasn't very big or that it was just a moisture farm or that he was only allowed out of the place for schooling. It was his home, and that was all that mattered. It was the place he'd had his parties, all of his six birthdays for as far as he could remember. It was the place he felt safest. It was the place where his aunt and uncle were. It was where he fixed things, even if the way he did it sometimes made uncle Owen look at him strange.

And then there was Father.

Father was different, and kinda strange. Father didn't always really like being asked about himself, and Luke had quickly learned that it was not something to keep pestering the man about. He always got darker when Luke pestered.

Father nearly always demanded and never asked. At least uncle Owen asked, at least sometimes. But then again, Father was getting better. Plus, sometimes the things he'd demand were the same as uncle Owen and aunt Beru. _Do all of your chores, Luke. Make sure that the vaporators are fixed properly, my son. Go to bed on time, Luke, and do not come again to me tomorrow. You are missing out on sleep, Luke. Meeting me drains you_.

Luke didn't know what the last of them meant, but he obeyed his father as he talked to him in his dreams.

One night, however, not many weeks before his seventh birthday, he was preoccupied by his thoughts before and during sleep. His preoccupation was all due to something his aunt had said earlier that day, just before she and uncle Owen went off to town for the day. They hadn't worried about Sand People; the Lars farm had never been attacked by Sand people and it seemed to Luke that they almost avoided his home. His uncle and aunt never talked about it, but that was how he felt.

_We're going away for a short while, Luke, but be good._

_Be good._

For all his other demands – some of which had seemed kind of silly to not-yet-seven Luke – his father had never said that. Never said _be good_.

So, of course, when sleep came and he found his father and after they had finished their talks (more like Luke's talk, as his father hardly said anything most of the time) Luke decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Now," he said in a tone of voice that he was sure was the same one his aunt had used, "I'm going away for a bit. I'll be back, but you be good."

The look on his father's face was not one that would be easily forgotten, and the entire incident was to be told and retold – much to the embarrassment of both.

---

Darth Vader was back on Coruscant. Now known as the Imperial Centre, it was almost completely different. Few things had indeed stayed the same; only the traffic, the way that the planet seemed silver from the sky as it was covered with buildings, and the fact that it was the political and commercial centre of the known galaxy. Everything about it was twisted, in much the same way as Vader. By the same person, even.

For himself, Vader's mood was as tightly strung as it had ever been, as close to Palpatine as he was. Above all, the Emperor was a manipulator – which was the reason, of course, why Vader found himself not willing to even so much as think. If Palpatine got inside his head again, he would find out about Luke. If Palpatine found out about Luke, then. . . fear coursed through him. Either one of two things would happen. Luke would die, along with his aunt and uncle and anyone else he might have come into contact with. The chill of his anger at the thought brought the temperature down to Hoth-like levels. Either that, or. . . or Palpatine would be able to sense the boy's potential, decide that it was too much to waste. _Turn_ him.

Vader snarled. _Just let him try. Master or not, just let him try. Palpatine isn't going to do that if I have anything to say about it – not to my _son_, _Padmé's_ son, the last thing of hers that I have. . _.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost did not hear the buzzer that meant that someone was trying to reach him on the holo. Irritated and frustrated, he answered the comm. A highly nervous young officer greeted his gaze.

"Well?"

The officer swallowed hard.

"My lord Vader, forgive me, but the Emperor wishes to see you. . ."

Vader breathed, and the officer trailed off.

"Understood. Is there anything else?"

"H-he wanted to see you r-right away, my lord."

"Back to your duties."

The man gratefully thanked him and he signed off, but Vader was going to make sure that was never left in charge of directing his messages again. Incompetent and weak fools would not be tolerated, and even if he did feel any sort of compassion, it would not be expected of him. Especially not here, where the Emperor held complete sway over the planet and everything that went on in and around it. He _could_ not be that blatant.

His steps led him to his Master's throne room, decked out in red and black, just as his rooms had been back when he had been a Senator.

As he knelt in front of the dais, his thoughts wandered, hidden behind the most extensive shields that he could place in front of them. _Please Force don't let Luke be dreaming now. . ._

"Lord Vader. My old friend, I had thought that you would have been looking forward to our next meeting."

Thoughts still shielded, he remembered the last time that he had been on Coruscant. That had been before Luke had appeared to him, before he had known that he had been lied to, before. . . everything.

"Forgive me, my Master. I am eager to continue my training."

Sidious' eyes narrowed – ugly yellow eyes, much like his own when he used the darkest of the Dark side, much like he had been in the temple, and on Mustafar, and since then ever on until Luke.

"I am sure that you are, Lord Vader. But perhaps there is something troubling you?"

The false concern would have made Vader gag if it had not been for the life support systems in the suit and the breathing mask on his face.

"No, my Master."

A stirring in the Force alerted him to the outcome before it happened, a chill in the air.

"Do not attempt to lie to me, Vader. I can sense your preoccupation."

Vader hesitated, and that was all it took.

Yellow eyes narrowed in a face further mutated by a grimace of anger and hate. A single hand rose.

"Perhaps it has been time enough for another lesson on being properly open and obedient with your master, my _friend_?"

Vader's eyes widened in a spike of fear and revulsion, and though all of it was due to the man or rather monster before him, it was not all for himself. His shields couldn't fail. They couldn't. He couldn't fail Luke like that. He had to survive, so that when he knew all of the ways of the Sith, he could defeat Palpatine himself.

Sidious laughed, a twisted notion of what a laugh should be. Vader himself had had nothing to laugh for.

"Your treacherous thoughts betray you, my arrogant apprentice."

Panic surged within him for an awful second, then blue took over his world.

Over the last couple of months, blue had come to have a secure feeling for him. It had been the colour of his lightsaber, the colour of his eyes, the colour now of the Force-form of his son. Now, in this moment, just as it had for nearly six years, blue held only pain.

---

To say that Luke had been unable to stay still all day would have been an understatement. Even on a usual day the nearly seven year old would have had a hard time sitting still even at the dinner table unless he was given something to tinker with. The fact that his father had let slip that he too was good at mechanics had only worsened the issue for his aunt and uncle, who were constantly trying to keep him from hurting himself somehow.

Today, however, the boy had woken up tense and hardly been able to swallow down his breakfast, eyes downcast and fidgeting in his seat. He had attached himself to his aunt Beru, and when she was unavailable a weather and time worn stuffed bantha would unerringly find its way into the boy's arms.

Owen and Beru had looked at each other with a meaningful glance. It was obvious that Luke would be able to get nothing done today in the state that he had worked himself into. Despite repeated warnings to take it at least a little easier, he had been unable.

The fact that he could not stay still for even a second, combined with the heat of the two Tatooine suns and his gut-wrenching worry all led to the one conclusion that his father had been so keen on preventing, if he had been able. Luke's small six year old body was not strong enough to deal with the stress, and it wasn't even midday before Beru Lars found his eyes drooping and his death grip on the stuffed bantha loosening.

He moaned and tossed as his aunt laid him down carefully on his bed.

"Oh, Luke. I wish I knew what was upsetting you so, my precious boy. . ."

Luke stirred, but didn't speak. He was already asleep, no matter that at times his limbs were splayed everywhere and at others they were taut with tension, blond hair flying all over the pillow.

It wasn't long before Beru could say with some certainty that her adopted son and nephew was experiencing a nightmare, and an awful one at that.

"No. . . _NO. . .!_"

Luke's moans hadn't been too loud, but then again Owen wasn't too far away. What happened next, however, sent the boy's uncle running to the battered old speeder.

"No. . . stop it. . . no. . . _Daddy!_"

Beru went pale, as pale as it was possible to get under two suns, and Owen did near the same except for the choice swear words he voiced.

---

Obi-Wan Kenobi – or rather, as he was now called, Old Ben, hermit of the Jundland Wastes of Tatooine, that weird old wizard – had been trying to meditate.

Meditating was something that he had been in great need of ever since he had arrived on Tatooine, a grave irony since time to meditate was one of the few things that he had aplenty. That and sand. He had that aplenty, too. In fact, he was beginning to understand just why his old padawan had had such a dislike for the stuff. It got everywhere.

In the hours, days and years that had been his stay on Tatooine so far, he had been able to meditate on many things, but everything centred around Anakin. _How did I fail you? When was it that I_ started _failing you? What went_ wrong, _Ani?_

And each day, the Force stayed silent, swirling around him in grief and pain. Sometimes, he would go over to the Lars farm unannounced and look in on young Luke, and he would feel that he had seen a part of the answer staring back at him from those blue depths. Luke had his father's eyes, the same eyes that Obi-Wan had seen so many years ago, not too far away, on a ship as they left Tatooine, after a nine year old boy had won his freedom in a pod race.

Luke's eyes were so bright, he seemed to be almost a living embodiment of the Light side of the Force. Oh, his father's temper was there – he had seen it in action, as had the boy's uncle and aunt, uncle bemoaning the fate of bringing up a too-dangerous child into the world all the while – but even while it was there, so was the mother's compassion. Even when angered the boy had enough sense to, if not diffuse his anger completely, at least not let it hurt anyone. Obi-Wan thought that perhaps the idea of needlessly hurting another even in anger was anathema to the boy.

There was no Code by which the boy was bound, so love and anger were free to wreak their own havoc. Havoc that meant that none would go unprotected in the six year old's sight, no matter and paying no heed to power. Anger that turned up whenever something wrong or unjust happened.

There was frustration, too, but Obi-Wan supposed that with all of the good in the boy, a few more grey hairs because of Skywalker genes running true were a small price to pay.

He had learned many things, and was still learning, and had much to learn still. Much to learn from Anakin, much to learn from his former Padawan's son.

So he meditated. He went over and over every small thing, thinking where he might have gone wrong and thinking and thinking on how he might not repeat that mistake and that mistake with Luke, the precious child the Force had bade him guard.

Luke. . .

Deep in meditation, the Force guided his thoughts to the bright presence of the child and he frowned. Luke was uneasy. Worried to the point of abject fear, even. This wasn't right.

Tentatively, he reached out to calm the child with a tendril of Force, projecting calm and soothing emotions.

What he didn't expect was for Luke to be half aware when obviously asleep. What he didn't expect was for Luke to already have a completely open Force-bond with another person, a person that Obi-Wan recognised dimly, and still remain as Light as he was.

That was when the pain struck.

As open to Luke's bond as he was, two angry, hate-filled waves of it roiled down two bonds – the bond from Father to Son to Protector, and the bond from Padawan to Master, frayed to within a thread of its life but still there. He doubted Vader (or was it Anakin?) knew that the bond even still existed.

Panic filled him that was not just his panic, and he tore out of his hermit's hovel of a home, racing for the speeder that he had bought only less than a week ago – obviously the Force knew to provide its people with what they needed to care for those it cared for.

The speeder sped across the Wastes at a rate that would have been worthy of Anakin himself, and Obi-Wan almost chuckled mirthlessly at the thought. Who knew if he would ever see his old Padawan again? He had failed him.

But he hadn't failed the child yet and didn't intend to. Sand dunes and rock formations blurred past him, mixing in each other's wake. He pressed his foot harder down on the acceleration and for once he didn't care that what he was doing was near suicidal – Anakin would have done the same if not worse and besides, he was the one piloting this time. As Obi-Wan had said many times to an unruly Padawan, _"I don't mind driving, just not when you're the one in the driver's seat."_

The Lars farm coming into view, he eased up on the speed to allow for more control. As the bike came skidding to a halt, he recognised Owen's stocky figure about to climb aboard his own speeder before halting in relief at the Jedi's shout. Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed into a frown. If Owen Lars was grateful to see him, things _had_ to be bad.

"Kenobi," the man greeted him with stoic reserve, stubborn will not letting him show just how relieved he was that the Jedi was there.

"What's wrong? Where is Luke?"

"You don't know? I thought you had that weird energy stuff to tell you!"

"I sensed a disturbance in the Force. I am not all knowing, and neither is that something that I would wish on anyone, so no. I do not know what happened to Luke He was simply the only one close enough who could create such a disturbance."

Owen grunted as they continued into the farm's personal quarters , by which point not only could he hear the boy with his ears, but the distress that was being released into the Force around them was blocking almost everything else out. Beru looked up at them as they entered with panicked concern in her eyes. One didn't need to be Force-sensitive to know that something was wrong.

He was down at the boy's side without thought, stroking familiar blond hair out of the young face as he had with a similar if older boy after that boy's nightmares.

"Luke? Luke, it's all right. You're safe. You're safe."

But Luke seemed not to be able to hear him, even with whispers of Force-suggestion lacing his words. He thrashed out with his feet, whimpering.

"No. . . stop it. . . you're _hurting_ him. . ."

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Luke, sending waves of calming Force energy down the tentative bond that they had.

"Come on, Luke. You're strong. Come back to us."

"But I - ! _Stop that!_ You can't. . . _hurting_ us . . ."

"Luke, I promise you, everything will be all right. Just come back to us."

Luke tossed about some more in his grasp and then his eyes widened, sky blue turned electric with terror. He whimpered and then relaxed into a death grip on Obi-Wan's robes.

"He saw me," Luke gasped out. "He saw me. He saw me."

Obi-Wan, at first relieved beyond anything else that Luke was back and with them, froze in fear at what the boy was saying.

"What do you mean, Luke?" he asked, releasing his fear into the Force, knowing that Luke would pick up on it otherwise. "Who saw you?"

"_He_ saw me," Luke said, as if it was obvious who he meant. "The ugly one."

"Which ugly one, Luke?"

After all, there were several species of alien that a young boy without much galactic knowledge might find ugly, as well as certain types of humans. Not to mention those who, like Vader, had extensive injuries. He had known what that blasted suit was for the moment the Sith had reappeared. It was, after all, his fault it was necessary.

Luke shivered.

"The scary ugly one. The ugly one who hurt daddy with the blue. Daddy isn't ugly, he's black an' he's blue but he's not ugly, but the ugly one's all black an' yellow an' red and _ugly_."

_Think rationally, Obi-Wan. Accept the situation as it is given you and deal with it accordingly. Accept that you have the right to panic, but panic, but panic later. Panic can and will wait. Jedi do not give in to their fear. Think_.

"What do you mean by your daddy being black and blue, Luke?"

He shot a warning glance over at the boy's aunt and uncle, not letting them say anything.

"When I first saw daddy he was all cold and black. Like he was hurting, and no-one'd kissed it better for him." Luke seemed sad at this, but continued. "I helped him feel better, I think. He looks _much_ bluer now. Blue is good for daddy, I think."

"Hmm. . ." Interesting. So far, nothing Luke had said indicated that he even knew who his father was, other than the fact that he was 'daddy' and 'black and blue'. His rational mind said that this meant nothing, but he couldn't escape the fact that the Force was urging him to pay close attention to what the six year old was saying. "So the ugly one was black and yellow and red, yes?"

Luke nodded fitfully into his tunic, and a part of the puzzle presented itself to him. _Black . . . yellow . . . red. . . all the colours of Sith. Black robes, yellow eyes and red lightsaber_ . . .

He tried to smile and sent another wave of reassurance. "So if you had to say something about me, what kind of colour would _I_ be?"

"Um. . . dunno. You're a different kind of blue, like water in a _really_ big, _deep_ dish or something. That's what I think. Water an' rocks."

Obi-Wan laughed and Luke relaxed far enough to look up at him with a smile on his face.

"What about you? Have you ever seen what you look like?"

"Nope," Luke said, covering a yawn with a small hand as fatigue caught up with him again. "I always see me like me when I look at me. But daddy says I'm a bright blue."

Obi-Wan smiled and lifted him back onto the bed, telling him to sleep, and suggesting to a malleable subconscious not to dream any more tonight. Even if what he suspected wasn't true, what the boy had experienced just now was enough for nightmares aplenty.

Beru lead them back into the living area, whereupon he was fixed by two hard stares that brooked no arguments and demanded answers. He sighed and collapsed into a chair.

"How long has he been having strange dreams, woken up without looking rested?"

The two, who had begun by looking irritated by not being given answers first, shared a startled look.

"How do you know what the boy's sleeping's been like? You haven't been watching him or doin' something with that Force stuff, have you?"

"Actually, no," he retorted coolly. _However much I would have liked to_. "It is simply that Luke has a great deal of power that his mind does not consciously know what to do with. Therefore, today's events."

Beru looked stricken. "Months," she said, sounding appalled. "About two. He's a growing boy – we don't know what is or isn't right for him. And we daren't let his friends stay over – he still hasn't enough control to know that he's even _doing_ something strange, or wrong, or just simply _different_. It's not his _fault_."

Obi-Wan sent her a compassionate look. "I know. Believe me, I know."

Owen punched a fist into a piece of unassuming wall.

"Damn him. . . I heard the kid. He told me. I just didn't listen. How was I to know he wasn't just hittin' too close to the mark sometimes about how his father was? How was I supposed to know he was getting it all straight from the krethin' _source_?"

Obi-Wan put his head in his hands. "We weren't. Why shouldn't he wonder?" His head came up and he looked at them determinedly. "At least I learned one good thing from my conversation with Luke."

"And what's that?"

"Palpatine still doesn't know who Luke is. Only that someone was there. I am sure that should the Emperor come face to face with Luke he would know that it was him, but otherwise – there should be no danger."

"No _danger_?! The boy's _father_ knows where he is! So tell me, Kenobi – where's the safety in that?"

"Owen Lars, calm down! I managed to get Luke to sleep, but with your shouting I wouldn't be at all surprised if he woke up, wondering what we were talking about. And to answer your question, there is safety. Think on it. As you yourself said, his father knows where he is. Probably a lot more, too. For about two months. So would it not stand to reason that Something would have happened by now if you were in danger from _him_, at least."

Owen's scowl only deepened, but Beru's hands flew to her mouth.

"What in Sith hell do you mean by that? Don't talk in riddles, man."

Obi-Wan sighed. "I don't think that Luke even knows who his father is," he said quietly.

Beru's eyes widened and her gaze flickered from him to the general direction of where Luke was.

"But how can that be? If Luke's been seeing – talking to him – how?"

"I believe," the Jedi said slowly, thinking things through for himself just as he was telling the two foster parents in front of him, "that when dreaming, Luke simply doesn't have the control to see anything more than a person's Force signature. Therefore I believe that he saw Palpatine in shades of black, yellow and red, yet did not know who he was. Palpatine was able to see Luke in shades of bright blue, but not know who he was." He paused. "He said that his father was shades of black and dark blue."

"But. . ." Beru still looked like she had been stunned and hit. "But what does that mean?"

Owen put a reassuring arm around her shoulders while Obi-Wan carefully checked up on Luke with the Force. The boy was sleeping soundly, but once his attention was back in the same room as his body, he shook his head, hands going up to rake through the many grey hairs that his old Padawan had given him.

"I don't know. I really don't know. . ."

---

AN: 0_0 I'm oggling at the response for the previous chapter. Wow. I hope this lived up to your expectations. I think the next chapter (just so you don't go killing me for cliffhangers) is the repercussions of this one. Things do get brighter from here on. (Also didn't mean it to be quite so LONG in my head. . .)

I do hope I wrote Obi-Wan and the others well.


	3. Through Dangers Untold

To Dwell In Dreams

Chapter three – Through Dangers Untold

Disclaimer - Unfortunate to be skint I am. Own not do I even this way of speaking.

---

Darth Vader sat still and silent in the middle of his hyperbaric chamber. The only place where he could take off the suit that now defined who he was; although he could only stay within the parameters of the room itself, it was also the only place where he was free to be completely himself, barring the fact that he dare not let all of his shields down whilst on the same planet as Palpatine. Not unless he wanted to lose everything all over again. No, it was here that he could be someone beyond both Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker. Neither Jedi nor Sith, not Imperial fist or humble spice freighter navigator. Where all that truly mattered was the fact that he had not, in fact, destroyed his entire reason for being that night so many years ago. Something remained.

His son.

His bright, caring, ignorant and loving son. The son who didn't know who he was other than the many layered fronts that he put up, and did not stop loving him for it.

In. Out.

He breathed slowly, savouring the feel of it, not knowing the next opportunity that he might be able to take to experience this most normal of motions that most had not even to think of to do. Savour the experience, and give thanks to the Force that he could still do it at all, the necessity for a hyperbolic chamber a moot point. He was still alive to need one, and that was what mattered.

Alive to need one, alive to see his son's Force signature again, alive to hear his voice again, and alive to make sure that, one day, they could be together without having to fear Darth Vader's Master.

A stab of something not unfamiliar since discovering the boy twisted suddenly in his gut.

_But would Luke want to be with him once he found out who his father really and truly was? What he had done, was still doing?_

Vader shook his head, thoughts calming themselves by force and Force. Slipping into meditation, he attempted to let the anxiety wash over him. _What if Luke had figured things out from his recent experience?_ Even a six year old had _some_ intelligence.

It had been only a few days since he had last seen his son, not so long, given the lengths in between visits before, yet long enough now that he was worrying.

Enough. A Sith did not worry about inconsequential things, and a Sith was what Palpatine expected him to be. So, of course, a Sith he _would_ be.

Once again he slipped into meditation, this time succeeding slightly better than he had before. He kept the Force ever so much out of his grasp, both light and dark, tasting the eternal patience and deep-rooted fear that came of the dark. He allowed for only the barest of lights to be let in. He dared not do more, but hope would be enough.

---

It had been only a few long days since the ordeal, and Luke had recovered well, now playing in the courtyard of the farm in the late afternoon shade while the three adults talked once again.

"No."

Obi-Wan sighed. Who would have thought that someone who was only related to Anakin by marriage would have so much obstinacy? It was as hard to deal with Owen Lars as it had been his old Padawan.

"Owen, listen to me. The boy needs to learn. If the Emperor is even on the same planet as he is now, he will know. The least you could do would be to give your nephew a way to fight back, something to fight with?"

Owen didn't answer, entire presence unmoving.

"Please, Owen."

The two men both turned in surprise to Beru, who was watching Luke as he swayed from side to side, pretending that he was flying a ship.

"Beru – no. I'm not going to allow you to set the boy on some foolish pat of ideals and crusades!"

Luke glanced up briefly at the tone of his uncle's voice before returning to the world of his make-believe.

"It is a choice that you will have to make, Owen," the aging Jedi said quietly. "Luke is going to find out about the Force one way or another. If you let me, I could tell him sooner. But. . ." Luke gunned down an imaginary fighter, grinning. "If you leave it too late, he will have questions. And if he doesn't feel that he can turn to me, he _will_ go to someone he does feel that he can trust."

Just who that person would be was left unmentioned. No one really felt that they needed to say it, and Owen tensed badly enough without the direct mention of his stepbrother. His Force presence indecisive now, he still did not say anything one way or the other.

---

Luke opened his eyes. Then he blinked, eyes wide, quickly following it up with an ear-to-ear grin.

He was back.

The room was just as he remembered it. Nothing had changed – except, perhaps, for the absence of the familiar black-and-dark-blue presence of his father. That wasn't too bad, though, as his father was never – Uncle Ben had said _could_ never, but Luke didn't understand what that meant – be too far away.

Smiling secretively to himself, Luke tiptoed over to the door. The door opened, and he crept out, giggling slightly. Even though nothing and no-one seemed to be able to know that he was there other than his father, he had found that he was still able to manipulate his environment in small ways. Little things. Doodling on datapads. Climbing on chairs. Drawing faces in the mist his breath made in the view ports as he stared out at stars and ships and planets. Pulling out drawers and opening doors.

His father had told him off countless times for doing such things as those, yet always with a strange sort of sad smile. The kind of smile that remembered things. Luke didn't know what things, only that they were things his father remembered when he, Luke, got into trouble, and that they were not always bad things.

So, now, Luke was trying to get through _that_ door, the _biggest_ door, the one that led to the _outside_. One that he'd never been able to get past before, only taken glimpses stolen when his father didn't think he was looking. So far, the outside didn't seem very interesting.

The outside seemed to be made of greys and dark greys and yet more greys. Corridors seemed to play a big part, too – long, boring places that held no interest for a six year old. Nevertheless, Luke often wondered what was _beyond_ the corridors, behind the _other_ doors.

Today got him a couple of stares from people passing by – both looking too officious to whisper among themselves, but not enough to curb curiosity over that particular door opening of its own accord – and a good long look at more boring greys. He tried to take a couple of steps forward, but had barely started to take the second when he was pulled gently but firmly back into his father's rooms by an arm of Something.

Uncle Ben had said that the Something was called Force, but it usually didn't seem very forceful to Luke.

The door slid shut again, leaving him half pouting, half grinning in front of his father, who had his arms crossed and looked particularly annoyed.

"How many times have I told you not to try that again, Luke?"

Luke scuffed a foot against the clean floor.

"Ten billion?"

His father chuckled slightly but did not give way.

"Not quite that many, no. But there is a reason why I do not wish for you to see the ship outside of my rooms. It is dangerous for you. Simply because you cannot be seen or heard does not mean that you are invulnerable, my son."

"You've told me all that _before_."

"And I'll say it again when you need to hear it. Maybe one day you'll listen – or remember."

There was a strange undertone to what his father was saying, but Luke, in his innocence and happiness at simply seeing the man again, did not so much as notice that it was there.

"But you'll always be there to say it, won't you? You're not going to go away or let the ugly man take you, right? Right?"

His father seemed to smile at him, picking him up in his arms and carrying him over to the desk where he habitually sat, kicking his feet. He liked it when Father carried him – the scent of leather and mechanics and engine oils had become a sort of comfort.

"I promise you, I will be. I will always be there for you when you need me, Luke."

The words sent a shiver through him. They made everything all right. And yet...

"You sure?"

His father crossed his arms, a slight bit of amusement flooded over by love and determination.

"I will _make_ sure, my son."

Luke sighed contentedly, leaning softly onto his father's chest. "Good. I wish I could make everything all right for you, though."

Dark arms of Force brilliance held him close.

"The simple fact that you are here eases me, child."

Luke huffed, clutching at a piece of fabric that he could not see. He could tell that his father felt good whenever he was around, but it wasn't enough. For a reason Luke could not fathom, his father had that same always-sadness that his Uncle Ben had.

"I wish I could be with you more, then. I wish I was stronger."

He had said the words so that his father could feel better knowing that he wanted to help. He hadn't expected him to still, almost tense at them.

"What do you mean?"

Just that Uncle Ben said that I had to rest and get stronger before I could see you again." Luke frowned. "Uncle Owen doesn't like Uncle Ben. Dunno why. Aunt Beru does."

For a short while neither moved and both were quiet.

". . . Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you tell me how it was that you met this Ben?"

Luke laughed slightly.

"Met? Uncle Ben's always been around. Just not all the time like Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. Just kinda. . . there. He's been around a lot _this_ week, though. Uncle Owen told me to thank him 'cause he helped me when you was hurting." Luke nodded to himself with happy determination. Uncle Ben was nice. He was patient and kind with him even when he wanted something done _now_, or if he got angry and upset. He was there in a way that was different to anyone he had ever met on Tatooine, similar only to his father, and even then in only certain ways. Like that he could see them both in colours. "He used to be just 'Mister Ben', but that was before," he mused, shrugging. "All of my friends in town have _real_ big families, so I guess I wanted to be like them. My friends aren't always around, hardly _ever_ on the farm, and Mister Ben had been here _all week_."

His father seemed to twitch strangely at the description and Luke detached himself to be able to look at him properly. He narrowed his eyes slightly and cocked his head to one side.

"Hey, you don't _know_ Uncle Ben, do you?"

His father started, blue-black fighting for dominance in a conflict that Luke was both too young and too innocent to understand.

"I. . ."

The pilot turned away to face the stars that hung over so many skies. Blue won, but it was a dark victory.

"I do not know. I may have known him, a long time ago."

Luke's attention snapped to his father's figure, eyes alight with anticipation and excitement.

"Really?!"

The elder sighed.

"It would have been before you were born, young one. We fought. If we met again this soon. . ." He cut himself off, blue darkening ominously so that even Luke understood that the fight hadn't just been about not being able to share the water. "It would not, I believe, be the best thing for you."

Luke sighed, disconsolate over having lost a source of family stories, but contented himself with resolving to find some way to make the two be friendly again. It was bad enough with Uncle Owen not liking Uncle Ben or his father, without having his father not liking Uncle Ben too. It seemed that the only people who really got on with everyone and everyone got on with them were him and his Aunt Beru.

The now almost unapproachable figure of his father stood there, as if he was now unaware of Luke's continued presence in the office of his ship as he stared out into space. His Aunt Beru often berated him for doing that, but here his father was, doing just that with no-one to tell him off.

Luke sighed and pouted at how boring and annoying adults could be sometimes, but nevertheless jumped down from his perch on the desk and went over to give his father one last hug of the leg – he wasn't tall enough yet to get much more – before fading back into natural slumber and dreams of flight.

---

As Anakin Skywalker felt his son go back to his proper place in reality with a pang of pain, Darth Vader found himself wondering why he had not pressed the boy for more information on what was undoubtedly Kenobi.

Kenobi, who he had sworn upon the fires of Mustafar to kill. Kenobi, who had eluded him for nearly seven years now. Kenobi, who –

"_You were my brother, Anakin! I_ loved _you!"_

Gloved mechanical hands, one taken by a Sith and the other by a Jedi, placed themselves firmly on the transparisteel that allowed him to see the bleakness and the glory of space. His hands did not tremble – their mechanics would not allow for it. For the same reason, his breathing rate changed only imperceptibly, notable only to the one using the respirator.

Kenobi. Obi-Wan Kenobi. The one he had sworn to kill not only for betrayal, but for what his old master had done to him. The same man who was with, was protecting his son. The one who had left him for dead, and he hated him for that.

The one who must have lied, because anything else, now that shards and pieces of Anakin's mind were breaking free once more due to his son, would kill the Jedi Master's old apprentice.

Anakin let his hands fall back to his sides. There was nothing for it. For once, it did not matter even if Kenobi had lied and betrayed him. He could even put to one side his injuries, the fact that he now necessitated a life support suit, his new master. Next to the safety of his son – the safety of _Luke_ – everything else was unimportant. If word got out, if Palpatine, the liar who had let him believe the worst, that he had killed not only Padmé, his angel, but also his _child_, somehow found out that Luke lived, then they would all be in danger.

So, for now, he would try to control need for vengeance on his former master. Not sever the last ties he had to Anakin Skywalker's life. Not make his son look up at him with fear and with anger and with hate in his eyes. Not truly become the finished monster that Palpatine had made him out to be. Perhaps look the other way if he someday saw records of someone named Ben . . .

It was the least Anakin could do, and the most that Darth Vader could allow.

---

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master without council, Padawan or even an Order to belong to, sat at the humble moisture-farmer's table with his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

Across from him, Owen stared obstinately at a patch of wall above and to one side of the Jedi's head. He had not spoken much at all, clearly conveying his displeasure at Obi-Wan's insistence that his nephew should continue to visit his step brother.

Beru paced, not ashamed to admit to herself that she was more than just slightly afraid – though what or who she was afraid of or for was not a simple matter. She worried for her family, definitely. Luke had been sent to live with her and Owen because of how unimportant they were in the eyes of the empire. Now, that scant protection was gone, totally dependant on the whim of a Sith Lord. She feared for Obi-Wan and how if Luke said just one word, his cover would be blown. As a Jedi, he was a fugitive of the empire. As Anakin's old Master, there were not many places that he would have been able to hide from Darth Vader. Tatooine had, quite simply, been the best of many bad choices. At one word, his life could be forfeit.

She worried for Luke. What kind of things had his father been telling him? Was he, at this very moment even, being groomed for the position of Sith Prince, an unwitting apprentice? Even though he was not her son in truth, she could not help but love him as if he were. It would hurt her as much as it would hurt Owen, as tough as he would like himself to believe he was against attachment to the boy he had promised to protect. It would undoubtedly hurt Obi-Wan, Jedi though he was, yet more. In many ways, he was the uncle that Luke saw him as. The pain of losing Anakin had never truly dimmed – she had seen it a thousand times or more, every time he had looked at Luke. At first it had been a deeply embedded pain as he saw the young features of his old apprentice and brother repeated into someone so new and full of light. She had seen his features being moulded by grief and regret, holding himself at arms' length not only because of Owen, but because of himself.

She wasn't sure, but she thought that he had failed, and was afraid to do exactly what Owen was afraid that he would do.

---Perhaps a short number of weeks and months ago, he would have. Before last week. Before their lives had been turned upside down. Before the possibility that Anakin Skywalker might still exist even for just one small life entered his head. Beru did not have to be a Jedi with their Force understanding and mind tricks to know that the crazy old hermit had stopped being quite so crazy any more, that instead of the proof of his failure, Obi-Wan had started to see something different when he looked on Luke Skywalker – a new hope.

Which lead them all back to the present, to what was happening right at that moment. Not in the dining room that was more a conference table of oppressive tension, no matter that that was where all of the adults were. But to the smallest bedroom of the farm, where one boy was sleeping.

She stopped pacing for a moment and wrung her hands.

There was one more worry, and in truth it was that one that worried her the most, not because of what it was but the very fact that it held sway in her mind.

One week ago, or thereabouts, Darth Vader had been severely injured. Luke's description of an ugly man had drawn the serious possibility from Obi-Wan that he had seen the emperor, however indirectly. If Luke succeeded in finding his father tonight, then it would mean that Darth Vader would still be alive. If not, Luke's father would be dead, truly dead, and _that_ was what had her worried.

She had not confided this fear to anyone, even though it was likely that the Jedi had already long ago figured it out from her feelings, just as Luke had figured some of her moods in previous years.

Her pacing resumed. Moments later, the one figure who had so far remained as still as a statue sighed with weariness, relief and determination all rolled into the sound of one breath. Beru froze, and both she and Owen fixed their attention onto the Jedi Master.

A hand ran through desert-streaked reddish-brown hair before he spoke.

"Luke succeeded in entering his dream state."

The implications of the statement did not need to be spoken. A small rebellious part of her rejoiced on Luke's behalf, but it was the overlying anxiety that caused her to finally collapse into her chair.

---

In little over a week, some semblance of normalcy was returning to the Lars farmstead. The vaporators were tended to and womp rats driven off, which with Ben Kenobi's help was an awful lot easier. Owen Lars continued to grumble about the old wizard's presence in and around his home, his objections increasingly in his words rather than his actions. Beru Lars continued to be the main voice of wisdom in a household with two men and a boy in it, also attempting to keep at least some of her worries to herself.

Luke, of course, continued to shock, amaze and horrify his uncles and aunt with revelations, opinions and adventures. Now that everyone who was important knew about his visits to his father, he could often be seen showing off things that could never have been learnt on a moisture farm, some of them not even on Tatooine. Childish depictions of Imperial ships and equipment often mysteriously appeared and were hastily removed from walls and datapads.

As the days wore on, the adults seemed to almost have come to expect unpleasant yet innocent shocks until the one day they had all come to expect – and Owen to dread.

"Uncle Ben?"

Obi-Wan, who was growing increasingly accustomed to the assumed name, looked up from what he was doing. The vaporator, which had been fine until recently, was something useful for his hands to do. It was simply a shame he couldn't try to fix something without thinking of Anakin.

"Yes?"

"Could you teach _me_ how to – how to be forceful?"

The Jedi almost dropped the hydrospanner but caught himself so quickly that young Luke never even realised that he had fumbled.

"That I shall have to think about, young one. It is no small matter when one takes on a new P- learner." He only just stopped himself from saying 'Padawan' in time. A slip of the tongue could get either or both of them killed. "Have you talked to your father about any of this?"

Luke nodded emphatically, but a touch of dejection echoed through the Force.

"I asked him if _he_ could teach me but he said no." _Thank the Force for small favours_. "He said he couldn't really be around much but _you're_ already _here_."

Obi-Wan chuckled slightly, reminded of an Anakin of long ago, before the war and before Geonosis even.

"How do you even know that I could teach you? After all, I might simply be a Force-sensitive who had only heard of the Jedi through a friend of a friend."

For a moment Luke was silent and Obi-Wan continued with his work. Then he shook his head, blond hair flying.

"Nope."

And why is that?"

Luke shrugged. "'Cause father said so. Father said that if _you_ weren't more than just Force sensitive then _he_ was Force-numb."

This time he really did drop the hydrospanner.

"Your father said that?"

"Uh-huh."

Obi-Wan smiled, a smile that reached his eyes for the first time in years. It had been such a – an _Anakin_ thing to say. And if that truly had been what had been said, then he wasn't putting Luke in any danger. Hopefully.

"All right," he finally said after just standing there for a few good standard minutes and making Luke concerned as well as confused. "I'll see what I can do."

The boy's face lit up and he started to bounce around in glee.

"_Wizard!_"

Obi-Wan blinked, unsure of what he had heard, before shaking his head in sheer wonder. He bent down to pick up the abused hydrospanner as his new learner rushed out to tell his uncle and aunt.

---

The next afternoon, Beru took the speeder out to the customized cave that Ben Kenobi had claimed as a home not long after arriving on Tatooine with Luke. It seemed so long ago now, and yet she could remember it like it was yesterday; Obi-Wan, looking half dead on his feet and trying not to look it; Luke, dear little Luke, as bright and beautiful as ever, untouched by the grief and terror of the galaxy.

She parked the speeder at the closest distance from the entrance and took out the blaster, just in case. One never did know with the Tuskens.

Obi-Wan was in the middle of making tea when she walked in – two cups. Taking the chair that he offered her, she sat, grateful for something to have her hands around as she gathered her thoughts and her courage to speak her mind.

"Ben?"

"Yes?"

"This thing with Luke and . . ."

Obi-Wan sighed. "His father," he said, finishing the sentence that she had felt uncomfortable saying.

Beru nodded.

"What – what's going to happen to us? Vader knows almost everything that's going on, now. He could have – he could have . . ."

"But he didn't. And he isn't."

She nodded again. Obi-Wan trawled a hand through his hair.

"If I had thought that simply getting to know his son would bring Anakin back to us – to me – then it is likely that I would have done things quite differently. But the point is that we can none of us change the past, and what has been done already was not something that happened overnight."

"You never expected it to happen at all, did you?"

Her voice held no hint of accusation, only sad acceptance. None of them had thought that this might happen. He had betrayed them. He had been supposed to be lost to them – forever.

" 'Once you start down the path to the Dark Side, forever will it dominate your destiny,'" came the ironic, bitter rejoinder. Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, we never did. We never expected anyone to be able to."

"But. . . he's doing it, isn't he? Anakin is."

Silence.

"He must be. If he wasn't then Luke would know."

"Yes," he said finally, chuckling slightly. "Luke _would_ know."

The silence carried on, and soon the cups were empty. At long last, Beru felt brave enough to breach the important topic.

"What about. . ."

Obi-Wan frowned, obviously picking up on her unease.

"Leia. What about her? You told us about her. When you first came. What about her?"

Obi-Wan sighed, the sound of regret.

"Neither Luke nor Vader can know about her. Not because of Anakin," he reassured her. "Leia is a princess now, the Aldaraanian princess. Bail looks after her well. Luke survives because his relationship with his father is a secret. To the Empire, Luke Skywalker does not exist. Leia Organa does. While a part of me wishes that they could know each other, they can't. They just _can't_."

Obi-Wan's voice grew hoarse with those last words, and tears sprang to Beru's eyes, knowing now more than ever the pain that Padmé must have felt if she had known that her children were to be taken from her and separated.

"Perhaps . . . maybe they could meet, one day. When they're older. When Luke's strong."

"Maybe," replied the Jedi. But something in his eyes said that he worried too. That he doubted something. Though what it was, was lost to her.

---

AN: The chapter title comes from the movie Labyrinth. The full version is "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child that you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great — _You have no power over me_." I thought that it fitted for some reason ^_^ I find I like Beru. She'd a nice character to work with. Simple and strong. There's a part in the Vader/Luke talk where Vader makes a promise. That was inspired by the idea of the line "Still making promises you can't keep, Anakin?" I thought of either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan saying it, but neither of them were there - well, I suppose Qui-Gon might've. . .

I hope you liked the chapter, and that you'll continue to enjoy. The next should be set after a time skip of a few years, though. Virtual cookies if you guess who the new character is!

(PS: For those who are interested, The Vampire Detective has come forward quite a ways. Shouldn't be too long before the chapter's out.)


	4. The Family Joke

To Dwell In Dreams

Chapter four – The Family Joke

--

The two Tatooine suns beat down on their planet, heedless and uncaring for the many lives which both depended on them for survival and cursed them for lack of water. The suns did not think. They did not feel. Only followed the will of the Force which had created them, which would remain long after the two stars had burned out.

If someone had been watching from the sky, they would have been able to see (if they had inhuman vision of that level) a seemingly ordinary scene being played out in front of a seemingly unimportant area not far from Anchorhead and the Jundland wastes. The moisture farm looked nothing special because, in all the ways that mattered, it was nothing special. The people too seemed nothing more than ordinary.

Yet here, just as much if not more so than almost any other place in the galaxy, appearances could be decidedly deceiving.

The four people gathered outside the entrance to the farm and right by two kitted up speeders had all changed in the past six and a bit years. The adults had all grown older and wiser. Owen was finally starting to accept that not everything that Anakin Skywalker had unwittingly gifted to his son was bad. Beru was slowly gaining ever more respect for the Jedi and, more importantly to her, the dozens of others who must have existed before the empire and the thousands now living in the empire who had grown up as or raised Force-sensitive children. They were, as she would say to anyone who was sympathetic with her situation – mostly only her husband and his brother-in-law's old master, though Luke himself found himself on the receiving end of her speeches more than he would like sometimes – the most troublesome kind of children that there had ever been created by the Maker, and she could only find herself thankful that her nephew was more well behaved most of the time to bother with inane practical jokes like those that some of his friends played in the town.

And Luke himself –

At that moment, thirteen year old Luke Skywalker was grinning like there was no tomorrow, backing away from a hug and a proud look from his Aunt. Even the unobtrusive yet scowling form of his uncle could not take his joy from him – he knew that the man didn't actually mean it anyway, not anymore.

Because today was Luke's thirteenth Life Day, the day when he officially came of age.

Because today, for the first time in over six years, he would be learning how to use something other than a training 'saber.

He was going to be using a _real lightsaber_.

He was going to be given his _father's_ lightsaber.

The morning had been all about family, like all of his Life Days before. He was given gifts – Aunt Beru had even dyed some of his drab white Tatooine tunics brown as uncle Ben's Jedi robes. They had all laughed at that, even uncle Ben himself, and uncle Owen had said that he didn't mind, so long as he didn't get anyone's suspicions up by acting like a Jedi while he was around others as well as dressing like one.

The midday heat had been spent with the four of them eating as the suns beat down on the sands, the meal consisting of Luke's favourite foods, the same as always on this day each year.

What was happening now, however, was that uncle Ben was going to take him over to his place to present his father's 'saber to him, and since it was afternoon already, that meant that Luke would be staying at uncle Ben's for the night. His father, who had agreed and been pleased to have Luke receive his old lightsaber even if that meant that his son would not be making his own, would be getting the full run down of events that night since he was unable to be there in person.

He had never been there in person for almost any of Luke's greatest achievements – there had been the odd time when he would learn a technique from his father instead of uncle Ben, but those times were rare, few and far between. Anakin Skywalker had never set foot on Tatooine since finding out that he existed, and for some reason although that made him slightly sad, it didn't really matter at the same time. His father might not be there with him, but he was with his father, and that was all that really mattered.

Plus the fact that he knew that if he truly needed the man for whatever life-threatening reason, his father would come, Sith Hell or high water. It was a given.

So Luke grinned, the light of joy and happiness filling him as he said his temporary goodbyes. Sheer contentedness filled him as both he and his adoptive uncle clambered onto their respective speeders and flew off into the desert. Luke smiled as he remembered the reaction he had received the first time he had offered to give his Jedi uncle a lift over to the farm once – outright rejection. At first he had been dejected, thinking that it was a jab at his piloting skills, that it was because of his age. Then, when Ben had told him that it was simply that although his father had been seen as an excellent pilot, he, Ben Kenobi, had found that he was just plain suicidal even if he was brilliant, it had made him laugh. Ben had grimaced at that, reminiscing over the fact that both generations of Skywalker boys seemed to have similar tastes in flight.

Luke found – and had said – that he simply could not help it. He felt alive in the air, more so than he ever did when stuck on the ground, and it was for that reason that he had been pushing his family to let him attend the imperial academy. So far, he hadn't had any luck. But that didn't meant that his present fun could be impinged upon.

Flying was _fun_.

It took them no longer than perhaps half a standard hour to get to Ben's old place out in the wastes. The ride was familiar to the both of them, passing quickly. Sure, maybe he would have liked to believe sometimes that if he tilted his head _that_ way, then he could see the infamous Beggar's Canyon, Needle tall, proud and arrogant, just waiting to be threaded. Not that he _needed_ to, but. . .

He might be a Jedi (all right, Jedi-in-training), but he didn't think that meant he couldn't daydream. Plus, if he really wanted to, he could. A learner he might be, but he had his father's reflexes with the Force when it came to piloting, even uncle Owen admitted that.

In the house out in the wastes, Luke followed his uncle with excited yet subdued anticipation to where the Jedi had been known to keep his strange and wonderful things from long ago.

Once, he had discovered a box of old holos dating all the way back to the Clone Wars. He had barely recognised his uncle Ben in the pictures as the person who taught him now. The only thing that had made him absolutely sure had been the person standing next to or near to him in almost all of them.

Anakin Skywalker, while arrogant and self-assured twenty-odd years ago, had – or even still did – look just like him.

He was distracted from his thoughts when Ben put a hand on his shoulder, holding out in his other hand a long, cylindrical and yet familiar object. Ben looked at the silver and steel for a sombre moment or two, clearly remembering its previous owner, before handing the weapon with a certain amount of reverence to Luke.

"Your father's lightsaber, Luke. I had kept it for you even before you revealed that he was still alive. I was sure that he would have wanted you to have it once you were old enough."

Luke felt the sensation of the weapon in his hand, the comfort in which it rested there. Everything about it seemed to whisper to him, so that, unlike most times where he would cling to the old Jedi's words like they were the last dregs of water in the Wastes, here and now he felt himself slipping away from it all. _This was Anakin's_, it practically thrummed. _This was his life, and this was his safety. My father fought with this._ . .

Looking at the hilt with no small measure of wonder, Luke pushed a button, making the blade's beam shine forth. Blue. Blue as the Tatooine Sky. Blue as his eyes, his father's eyes, or so he'd been told.

"Never forget that this is the weapon of a Jedi Knight, Luke. It is to be used as one. If you want something clumsy or random, use a blaster. But the lightsaber is an elegant weapon for a more civilised time, and the one in your hands a prime example – one of the best, I would say."

Luke stared at the light of the blade for a moment, but not enough to get blinded by it – he had learnt that lesson years before, on getting his first practice blade. It had irritated him for what had felt like forever until the flash wore off. He chuckled slightly.

"Just _one_ of the best, uncle Ben?"

His uncle smiled.

"Your father may be the best mechanic that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, but he was still young when we – parted ways. So yes, Luke. _One_ of the best."

"I bet he's loads better by now then, huh? He's had this long just to make sure his lightsaber's perfect. I wonder what it'd look like."

A shadow passed over Ben's face that Luke didn't see, but mistook for sadness at the subject matter. After all, it had been over thirteen years since the two had seen each other, unlike him, who had the chance to talk with his father each time he went to bed.

It went almost as soon as it had appeared, however.

"Remember, Luke, that a lightsaber like this is not the same as a training blade. There will be slight differences; differences that to a normal person would be imperceptible, yet to a Jedi could be the line between life and death. For a while, the balance will be off and you will have to adjust your blows in certain ways. For some moves, you will not need to utilise quite so much strength, and since this will be the first time that you use a full-powered blade, you will also need to learn _when_ to use that power."

Luke was still grinning like a child, despite his thirteen full years. He had tuned some of his uncle's speech out, having heard most of it before, but the actual meaning had not been lost to him. He needed to get up to speed with the quirks and intricacies of duelling with a real lightsaber. He had a feeling he'd enjoy it.

"Hey, uncle Ben? Could I - ? D'you think I could. . . ?"

Ben answered him with an easy smile and a twinkle in his eye as he led his adopted nephew into a rarely-frequented gulley that they had often used for lightsaber training. Its out-of-the-way location had been a great asset, since it was considered treason to either be a Jedi or be training one, and the clash of even just training blades would have attracted some attention if they had not been careful. It also had the supporting factor of being a large area with plenty of obstacles and shady areas, making it perfect for either an all-terrain fight or a late afternoon resting place.

Luke rolled the hilt of his father's blade around in his palm, still not having gotten over the feeling of connection that it gave him.

Finding himself and Ben standing in an open space, he sketched a hasty bow and took up his favourite stance.

Ben started, a wash of memories and emotions coming over him in a wave so hard and fast that Luke could not tell one thing from another. Unlike the earlier shadow however, this pain did not simply vanish, but rather dimmed, the worst of the pain and suffering bleeding off into the Force. The Jedi made his own bow – making it look infinitely better than Luke's own – taking the stance of his own favoured style. Lightsaber in one hand over his head and other hand almost parallel underneath, the defensive Soresu style was one that Luke would feel rather accomplished by if he even got _one_ hit in.

He continued to grin. Nothing would stop him from enjoying this day, even if he got so soundly trounced that he needed bacta.

As he started forward to attack, he felt content, for the most part. And. . . he felt pride. Not just his pride, either. Uncle _Ben's_ pride in him.

It was that which lead him to do his best in his fight – he wanted to show Ben that he was worthy of that pride, that he could live up to it.

Because this was _his_ day, and _his_ Jedi heritage, the lightsaber his legacy.

---

Luke opened his eyes, knowing full well what he would see once he did. He wasn't usually let down. The same rooms, the same ship, mostly the same feel about it as it usually had.

Mostly.

The euphoria at the reason of his visit drained steadily from him as he truly began to notice the strange sensations that the place sent to him. As far as he knew there was nothing and no-one else here in the silence, yet _something_ was different.

For a moment he simply opened himself to his surroundings and the noisy silence of the place as he waited for his father to return.

Some cultures would say that if the room could speak it would have plenty of stories to tell. That, of course, was impossible, even with the Force. Rooms could not speak, and that was the end of it. But those cultures were closer than they knew however, because while the room could not speak, the memories of what had happened in them remained, imprints in the Force. Memories and memories of memories flashed through Luke's mind as he reminded of various events. Traces of their lives that had built up over years.

Luke flinched as more recent events came to the fore. Waves of anger, frustration, arrogance, stubborn pride and constant annoyance, sometimes tempered with dark humour. Emotions that had been felt in this room not so long ago. . .

Emotions that, as he focused more on the here and now, had not entirely dissipated. He opened his eyes and looked around, remembering that although his uncle Ben had told him that his eyes often lied to him, he was also told that what you saw could also be different from what you felt, and that if you paid attention to both then you would be able to see all the picture instead of jut a bit of it.

So far, Luke hadn't seen anyone, but that didn't mean that there wasn't anyone there.

"Hey, kid. Didn't anyone tell you now tell you not to go exploring on the big ships?"

Luke jumped, startled, hand reaching unerringly to where his lightsaber _usually_ was, but in his waking realm of dreams was an unreassuringly big nothing.

There was someone here who wasn't usually here, he realised as he turned around. Someone who could see him. And hear him. In most normal cases, that would have meant that he was a Force-sensitive – like his father and uncle Ben – and so deprived him of the opportunity of looking at their faces, knowing for sure who they were. Other than through their Force signatures, of course. This guy, though – he broke all the rules. He could see Luke. . .

. . . And _Luke_ could see _him_.

The stranger, Luke noted, was brawny. Older than him, but younger than either of his uncles. There was an undrawn blaster at his side that looked as though it had seen a fair amount of use, and a pair of goggles hung around his neck. The man's brown hair was tied back into a long but serviceable ponytail. The overall effect was that he looked like he had just come out of one of the less reputable bars in Mos Espa or Mos Eisley – a real space pirate of some kind. At any other time Luke would have felt much more delighted to be seeing one out Tatooine. But this was his father's freighter, and if there were space pirates of any kind on his father's freighter, then he would. . . he would. . . do _something_.

"Who _are_ you?"

Luke attempted to use that same kind of voice his father used when he did something the man did not like and he was trying to get his son to open up. Giving the matter a small amount of thought, he crossed his arms for good effect.

This, however, didn't seem to do exactly the same as it did whenever his father did it. The spacer simply cocked an eyebrow and crossed a short amount of the distance between them.

"Look, kid. Who I am ain't important. I don't even care who you are. In fact, what'd be real good would be if we just parted ways and forgot the other even existed. You don't make no trouble for me, and I don't have to make any trouble for you. Got it?"

Luke's eyes narrowed as he frowned.

"Nope."

---

Wrenga Jixton was taken aback. He didn't know how in Sith Hell the kid had gotten himself in here – he was supposed to be the only one in the known galaxy to be able to break the security all the way to Vader's private chambers either in his chambers in that castle on Vjun, or on whatever ship the guy happened to be flying on. But what he did know was that Vader was bad enough when he found out that Jix had broken in to the inner sanctum of the day, and if he found out that some snot-nosed kid who looked straight off the farms on Tatooine had been able to do it, heads would roll.

Specifically, blond-haired, blue-eyed heads.

"Kid, I don't think you understand. My Uncle D's gonna be coming back here any second now, and I _don't_ think you want to get caught by him."

The kid's jaw clenched, and he started pointing his finger at Jix, punctuating his words in a hauntingly familiar manner.

"Look, you. I am not going to be leaving here till my father gets back. I don't know when that'll be and to be honest with you I don't care about your Uncle D. I'm not moving."

"Whoa, your _father_?" Well, that complicated things a bit.

"Yeah," said the kid, putting that arm back to his chest in that oh so familiar way. "Ana- the captain. If you can see me, that means you know my father."

_Wait, what?_ Who was that 'Ana' something or other? And –

"What the hell d'you mean by if I can see you? You ain't exactly invisible, kid."

He took a passing glance at the door and the chrono and when he looked back the kid was smirking somewhat, the effect ruined by the mostly naive nature of the rest of him.

"You'd be surprised."

Jix shook his head, both frustrated at the kid's stubborn resolve not to budge as well as bewilderment at how innocent he still seemed, even on board the Empire's flagship.

"You know what? I don't care. You're getting out of here whether you like it or not. If my Uncle D finds out you're here, then he's going to- "

"Then I am going to do _what_ exactly, Jix?"

_Oh. . . Sithspit._

He could feel the blood deserting his face, his mind going blank for all but a few choice words. Not because of the sheer presence of the man; he wasn't afraid. Might as well be afraid of something as inevitable as death itself. More like that if he had heard more than even just a few seconds, then it wouldn't be just his head on a Force-pike. What could he say – the kid was cute. Cute things like him didn't deserve to be pulverised and decimated into tiny little pieces or –

Jix blinked. There was a notable lack of blood-red light, no humming of the energy blade, and most importantly, no screams.

He was _definitely_ missing something here.

The door hissed shut, and he looked first at the black masked and robed Sith Lord that he served under, then at the white robed, blond-haired and blue-eyed boy that he had been talking to before.

The kid was looking at Vader, and Vader was looking at _him_.

The boy reached up and gently caught a handful of Darth Vader's sleeve in his hand. Jix was interested to note that while the kid knew where the arm was, it was as though he was seeing through badly configured transparisteel. Even more interesting was that Vader didn't even seem to mind.

"Er, Father? Who is this guy? And what about you – how are you? I thought – I thought something had happened!" The kid's eyes widened. "Hey! He called _you_ his Uncle D!"

Jix was sure that if he asked most members of the Imperial galaxy – or even anyone who wasn't – then they would say that Darth Vader showed no emotion. That he was a cyborg that was more machine than man. For Jix, however, this wasn't the first time that he had ever seen something other than anger or hate coming from the Sith. It was, on the other hand, the first time that he could ever have said that he thought that the man looked like he was most likely to slap the palm of his hand against his head or hit his head – or would that be helmet? – onto a had surface.

He grinned.

"Jix," Vader said with amazing self-control, "we will talk about all of this later. For now, you will go somewhere to wait for my call, and you will try to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. Is this understood?"

Jix smirked. "Understood, _Uncle D_."

"And you _will_ stop using that name for me, Jix."

"Sure thing, Uncle D, sir."

The door slid open and shut again behind him, but he still heard fragments of conversation.

"So who _was_ that guy?"

Vader let out his approximation of what passed for a sigh with that damn respirator of his.

"Jix seems to live to get on the nerves of anybody and everybody that he meets. Although this makes him an embarrassment, he is also very good at what he does."

"So what is it that he does?"

". . . A lot of things."

Jix fought to keep from laughing hard. Instead, he called back to them as he walked away, loud enough to still be heard.

"I'll take that as a compliment, then."

---

Obi-Wan was making tea – two cups – just as Luke started to wake up. He smiled. The boy looked even more innocent and childlike in his sleep than he did when active. A stark contrast to Anakin, who had only ever looked truly at peace when he had been asleep. Or, as eh had come to realise and accept, when he had been with Padmé Amidala. Luke's mother.

"Hey, uncle Ben! Uncle Ben!"

Obi-Wan chuckled. Some things _didn't_ change. Skywalkers were Skywalkers, and the Force-strong family was nothing if not expressive.

"Yes?"

"You'll never guess what happened!"

He smiled and held out Luke's cup for him to take.

"If you are so sure that I would have no clue, then by all means, enlighten me."

Luke grinned and set the cup down on a stable surface so that he could use his hands to full extent.

"Well, at first I thought it was just another normal time when Father just wasn't _there_ yet, you know?"

Obi-Wan did know. He was pretty certain that the only way that the situation had progressed thus far had been because of Luke's ability to go back to that one place, so long, of course, as his father was present on the ship.

"Except then I met someone – or rather, they saw me somehow. I don't know. But. . ." Luke trailed off, the grin fading slightly but the inherited mischievous gleam in his eyes more than made up for it. "Did you know," he said with mock severity, "that I apparently have a cousin?"

Obi-Wan's eyes widened. It was an unofficial fact that Anakin was not going to remarry. His pain over losing Padmé and his subsequent subversion to the Sith Order had made it impossible. Surely, then, perhaps it was the Naberries, Padmé's family. But then, why say simply 'cousin', while ignoring the rest?

Luke seemed not to have noticed all of this going on in his mentor's mind. At the very least, he continued as if ignorant. Obi-Wan's suspicions as to the latter of the two seemed to be validated without much further confusion

"Er, actually," the boy said, with an embarrassed laugh, "It's more like a kind of joke. You see, Jix didn't know who I was when he said it, only that he thought the captain was gonna be real angry if he saw me there, problem was he didn't know the captain was my father either. . . Needless to say it got kinda funny when I realised Jix had been calling _Father_ 'Uncle D', and then Father replied – and you should have seen the look on his _face_! – and then I realised and I asked Father about it 'cause Jix had gone already and he said that Jix was just like that with everyone, just does stuff to get on people's nerves. I said I thought it was fun, because I'd never had a _cousin_ before."

"I'm sure that your father liked the sound of that," Obi-Wan said dryly, before the rest of what Luke had said caught up to him. "Wait. . . Uncle _what!?_"

"That's pretty much what I said," Luke chuckled, giving in to laughter for a moment or two. "I asked father and he basically said to ask Jix the next time I saw him." The laughter died down. "I look forward to that, though."

A smile lit up his face and he picked up the cup again before leaning back against the wall.

"There's so much I'd still like to know. . . So much to see, to do. People to meet. Someday I'll be able to fly among the stars and get to know Father and Jix on their own terms. But for now. . . I think I'll be able to make do with telling Jix how to best prank Father," he said, making Obi-Wan laugh.

"Well, you _might_ want to try . . ."

---

AN: Well, there you have it. No one got it right! I bet none of you ever expected Jix... and I told you it'd be EU characters in the profile summary, too. The term 'the family joke' comes from two sources - another fanfic, and Narnia, the first Crow who became the first Joke. Poor thing. I had the idea from the first when I thought of Luke's reaction to what Jix calls Vader; much Sith humiliation to be had ;D

I hope I've got Jix in character in his scenes. I've only got snatched glimpses of Shadow Stalker to go by, as well as other fanfics and wiki/wookiee pedia. Keep in mind that in this AU, things happen differently. Jix was found later (?) than in canon, and I believe, or am lead to believe, that the moniker 'Uncle D' only comes into use in Shadow Stalker to derail the Bothans. I liked it, so what.

Just so you know, there are going to be one or two mini/extra/omake scenes after this before the story really picks up again. The first extra will follow almost straight on from the events on the ship, the second extra having a time gap of about a year, and the next true chapter will be even more.


	5. A Matter Of Trust

To Dwell In Dreams

Chapter Five – Extra scene – A Matter of Trust

---

Yet again that day, the door to Darth Vader's quarters hissed open, this time not to allow entry to the Sith himself, but in fact an entirely different type of assassin. Not bothered in the slightest by the near palpable glare that his employer was bestowing on him, he leaned casually against a convenient wall opposite the figure in black.

Vader, his arms crossed, allowed himself the weakness of sighing in frustration. After all, what was the point in pretending that he was more than (or less, depending on your point of view) human in front of the one person who was both not afraid of him, and had seen his greatest secret.

"I believe, Jix, that I told you to be as inconspicuous as was possible for you to be. What, exactly, went wrong with that?"

"Hey, Vader," Jix started, informal yet not having to hide that he knew who he was. "I _did_ do inconspicuous. I could've done _so_ many things."

Under his mask, Vader raised an eyebrow – or at the very least, where an eyebrow had been.

"Perhaps, then, your idea of inconspicuous somewhat differs to mine, Jix. Yet it is my opinion on the matter that takes precedence. Going to the one place on the entire ship where you would have been spotted by the most number of people was not the best thing for you to do."

Jix unconsciously copied his previous expression with a sarcastic quirk of the brow.

"I got bored."

Vader leaned forward, arms uncrossed and finger now punctuating his words.

"I cannot afford for you to grow _bored_, Jix. Whether on a mission or not. You are my agent, and that means that people _must not_ know who you are. I had thought that you were aware of this."

"Hey, you needn't fret, you know. They thought I was some sort of Imperial, at any rate, so they let me be. Not that the food was any good."

Vader stared and glared in silence for a minute.

"I didn't even do in any of your precious 'troopers, Vader. Or should I say '_father_'?"

Vader didn't even hesitate before pinning Jix to the wall with the Force lightly around his neck – not enough that it would cause lasting damage, but enough to hurt.

"Before I allow you to do anything else, even _breathe_ properly, understand this. You _will not_ tell anyone about what you have learned. You will not _insinuate_ what you have learned to anyone. You will not speak of this even with myself at any time, especially if we are not even in the same room – unless I expressly permit you to for whatever reason."

Jix, who had started to turn a rather pale colour in the face as opposed to his natural tanned look, nodded at various times throughout. The man was well aware, after having been through similar – all right, worse – that if Vader was angered greatly enough, then he would not threaten. He would simply state fact. Jix would not even speak a word about Luke out of the room that he was presently in, and he would live. If he did, then he would never see his son again, and Vader would make up some sort of almost-truth so that Luke need never know that Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader were one and the same. He continued in that vein, letting up on the Force-choke and allowing Jix's feet to touch the ground.

"In addition to that, you will under _no circumstances_ let on to Luke my true identity. You will not insinuate that I am anything or anyone other than who he believes me to be."

Vader released his hold on the man completely and instead leaned forward menacingly.

"If you break the first condition, _Jix_, then you will die. Slowly, and painfully. If you break the _second_. . ." Vader paused for significant effect. "Then I will also feel that you have decided that our _previous_ deal is not worth the effort, either. _Then_ I will kill you."

Whatever colour that had returned to Jix's face left, as the Force told Vader that the an understood just how important all of this was. Their first deal had been an exchange – the planet that Jix had developed a fondness for would be left out of Imperial control in return for Jix's unquestioned loyalty as a servant to Vader.

For a long moment both of them stared, eye-to-mask. Then, Jix broke his gaze away to look off to one side and scratch the nape of his neck with one hand.

"You know, Vader, you didn't need to tell me that. I wouldn't have hurt the kid. I never said a thing about it from the time when I found out to when I got back here, and if I had wanted to , I coulda done a lot worse than sit quiet in the mess hall."

Vader studied the rogue Imperial for a minute or so, well aware that his gaze made the man if not fearful, then at least not completely at ease. He was telling the truth. Vader knew that not only because the Force was telling him, but also because _Luke_ had told him. Told him of how his new 'cousin' Jix had somehow thought that he would have been safer anywhere but the place where he was safe, how Jix had wanted to protect. . .

No, he wasn't lying. But that didn't mean that he had to like the situation. Former gunnery sergeant Wrenga Jixton was an embarrassment at the best of times, good at what he did or not.

But Luke liked the irritation of a Corellian, and because of that, he would have to stay.

With a sigh he straightened up and walked away a few paces, arms linked behind him. He ignored the slight twinge of relief that was not his.

"If you are to continue working for me and sneaking into my quarters unannounced, then there will be several things for you to be aware of."

"Go ahead; I'm listening."

"First – my name. When in hearing range of Luke, I am not known as Darth Vader, and neither is the ship a Star Destroyer."

The first was revealed with more than a little reluctance and the second with a slight bit of sarcasm and irony.

"I am to _him_," Vader said pointedly, "the ex-Jedi, Anakin Skywalker. I would prefer it if you used that name when talking of me when around him."

From the smirk that he could feel exuding itself from the Corellian, he very much doubted it that his preference would be duly noted. Or rather, noted and then thrown away to be remembered only when Jix felt like it. He rather thought that the lack of shock at his true identity was probably a delayed reaction. Probably.

"And what's the ship, then? Gotta say it doesn't look much like anything other than a Destroyer."

"The ship," Vader said, letting a little of his disgust at that one particular of the story show, "is a spice freighter. Apparently." At Jix's incredulous look, he expanded. "Luke has not seen very many spacecraft outside of those in the ports of Tatooine. He also has not been out of my quarters since his visits to me started, so does not know the layout of the ship."

Jix nodded, though obviously confused over the matter of Luke's visits. Vader started to pace.

"As an ex-Jedi, I fled the Purges and took on a new life as a navigator on a space freighter. Not long after that, I became the captain. My crew does not know who I was."

"I got you."

"Good. Because I will not repeat myself."

Jix nodded absently, setting the information straight in his head.

"Right. And the kid?"

Vader stopped pacing and stared out at the stars. They were passing through the Mid-Rim territories, but it still looked like space.

"Luke can tell you about himself if or when he feels that he wishes to. Until then, you are better off not knowing."

Jix shrugged, apparently understanding at least to some point.

"From what I could see, kid could take care of himself alright. Sure is stubborn enough."

"That," Anakin said softly, as softly as was possible with the vocoder, "Is more his mother than me."

For a few minutes neither spoke, one lost in the past and the other caught in the present.

Padmé. . . How many times and ways have I failed you, Padmé? If I had just been that much more stubborn? If I had stayed with you? Listened to you. . .

"I guess that's where he gets his height from, too. And if he ends up with some crazy growth spurt, I don't think he'll ever grow out of looking like some kind of stick."

At first Anakin froze, then turned on his heel sharply so as to look Jix straight in the eye.

"You could _see_ him?"

"Well, sure- "

"How clearly?"

"What d'you mean how clearly? I don't have anything wrong with my sight, so far as _I_ know. And I'm damn _sure_ he wasn't on holoproj."

Anakin felt hope of a strange kind stir in his heart.

"Tell me about him." He didn't even register Jix's shock and the beginnings of comprehension, or even the idea of what the next word would do to the man. "Please."

---

AN: All right, most of that was basically 'I want to get this, this, this and that talked about. This must be mentioned and that has to happen...'. Fairly easy, right? Also fairly fun, when Jix is involved (poor _confused_ Jix).

I suppose that in a way this serves as a guide to what Luke thinks he knows and any differences and discrepancies from the canon cover story.

I have officially decided that I like writing Jix. * n_n For anyone who didn't get it, this is set not too long after the deal mentioned in Shadow Stalker - by about three months. I'm very pleased that so many people liked him last chapter already, too.


	6. Not My Father

To Dwell In Dreams

Chapter Six - Extra story - Not My Father

AN: The first thing you need to know is that this story was inspired by a popular yahoo prompt – someone who calls himself Anakin Skywalker has been heard of, and we must see how both Darth Vader and Luke react to this. Since this is set in the universe of my story between the fourth chapter and the second big time skip, it will be very. . . _different_. . . take to any other version.

---

Luke's eyes widened at the news and even uncle Ben seemed decidedly angry for someone who was once supposed to be a Jedi Master. But that was all right, because it was nothing toward how Luke himself felt.

_It's an outrage! A scandal! It's – it's –_ not right.

"Luke -"

"I think I need some air," Luke said in a deceptively calm voice. He stood and walked out of Ben's modest abode, but wasn't immersed so deeply in his negative emotions to miss the swirl coming from his uncle that basically meant _Please Force, don't do anything rash_.

He ran, ran long enough that he was starting to tire, that the excess upset had been run out of his system.

Then he stopped, not stupid enough to find himself somewhere without shade in the heat of the Tatooine desert, breathing slightly laboured.

He collapsed, leaning against a rock for support, and called out to his father.

---

Darth Vader had been standing at the bridge of the flagship of the Imperial fleet, the Super Star Destroyer _Destructor_. He had been supervising the deployment of the ships in a minor rebel stronghold and watching the crew while he was at it.

Then had come the unexpected shout, its force leaving him leaning slightly against the railing – well, that and surprise. It was the middle of the day.

Passing a significant glance at the Admiral in charge of the ship, he went to the commander's ready room. Which as they were empty due to the occupant's continued presence on the bridge, was perfect for his needs. After all, no one needed to see Darth Vader talking and gesturing to thin air, acting like Anakin Skywalker.

:_Luke. What is the matter?:_

Luke, seemingly flustered by whatever it was that he had to say, took a moment to answer.

_:Father . . . have you seen the Holo news?:_

Anakin was taken aback. He had been aware that Luke and his extended family had holonet access, but unless his constant worry that Luke had somehow become intimately aware of his more public persona had come true – and he did not actually think that his son would be talking to him in such a tone if it had – then he had never truly expected the drivel they reported to cause any true harm.

:_I am usually quite aware of what is going on in the world_,: he stated dryly as a reply. _Most often because I am right at the centre of things. :But perhaps you have become aware of something that I have not been told of._:

_:I should think so!:_ Luke retorted back vehemently. _:Someone's been copying you!:_

_:Copying me?:_

_:Uh, well, kind of. I saw it on the news. They said someone was doing stuff using your name. . ._:

Using the name of Anakin Skywalker, then, since his son knew no other. A cool sort of anger took over him. Anakin was a personality who only two people saw in person, and only they were able to bring him out of the mask that had become Darth Vader. If someone other than he was _using_ it. . .

He closed his eyes and listened to his respirator modulating his breaths. They would pay.

_:And how are you sure that it was _not_ me, Luke?:_

He received the mental equivalent of a shrug. :_The Force, I guess. That and the fact that you've never actually_ done _anything to put you on the holonet for the past however many years, so I knew then. Why'd you start now? Unless it wasn't you?_:

Interesting, that his son had picked up on that. Yet he would still have to tread carefully. If he did not, then anything could happen. That did not diminish his pride in Luke for having picked up on the small clues, and reading what the Force told him like he had.

:_Did the holonet say anything about what the imposter has been doing?:_

_:Um, no, not really. They said something about him mostly being in the Outer Rim, but I didn't understand most the rest of it._: There was an embarrassed feeling pause. _:...Plus, I guess I got kinda annoyed and left before it said very much._:

Anakin sent his mental laughter across their bond. :_That is quite all right. Though you should probably bear this in mind the next time someone insults a person you hold dear. If you stay calm, then you can get more out of them._:

He had the impression that Luke made some sort of face at that, but the general feeling was of a kind of grin-and-bear-it attitude that made him shake his head in wonder. In many ways, Luke was like him – he had his looks, the way that he would be loyal to people rather than causes, the way that if something or someone close to him were endangered, Luke would instantly rise to defend it passionately. Yet it was at times like these that Anakin realised that so much of Luke came from the boy's mother. He had been told that Luke's eyes were blue, yet his uncle 'Ben' had stated that sometimes it looked more like they were his mother's. While he was like his father in that his temper was quick to burn, it was also like his mother's in that it burned out just as quickly.

:_Very well_,: he said finally. :_I will find the imposter and deal with them. I can assure you of that much, at least._:

Deep satisfaction could be felt from the other end of the conversation. Yet when he spoke, his thoughts were tentative. :_You won't beat him up_ too _bad, will you?_:

Anakin sighed and thought. There was the very real likelihood of his losing his temper if he saw this pretender, and evidently that was not what would put 'Vader' in Luke's good books.

:_I suppose. . . that there is someone else. That I could trust to do with him as they willed. . .:_

Luke's smile grew as he realised who it was that his father was talking about.

:_All right then, tell_ Jix _not to beat him up too bad_.:

:_I'll do that.:_

---

A couple of months later, the holonet was turned on in uncle Ben's home once more, as the Lars and one Skywalker dined with the crazy old hermit who just happened to teach Luke.

When the report came on, Ben narrowed his eyes and mouth but said nothing. Owen and Beru cast startled glances at the other two, yet did not say anything.

Luke simply smiled as he ate and listened to the – albeit irritating – reporter.

"_The recent disappearance of the man calling himself 'Anakin Skywalker' is being investigated, as it is apparently of great interest of both the Empire and the terrorist Rebels to have the man in their custody. Many believe that he is dead, that anti-Jedi sympathisers or undercover Imperials found and executed him. The question is still in the air however, since there has been no body found. The popular idea that the Emperor's second-in-command, Darth Vader, dealt with the situation in some way, is also a still unanswered question, since he has been unavailable for comment while on a mission of certain importance to the Empire. . ._"

--END--

AN: ^_^ I enjoyed that. Please correct my use of the _Destructor_ if it is wrong in the timeline, though... I think you get the picture about what happened - Jix found the imposter, promised pain, _much _pain, if he tried to do something like it again, and made him disappear. I don't think there's gonna be a repeat somehow. I see this as happening about one year after the last two chapters.


End file.
